


Interlaced

by surprisepink



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Cunnilingus, First Time, Multi, Pre-Canon, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex, couple performing for third, first time threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26793544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisepink/pseuds/surprisepink
Summary: In all of her obliviousness, Marisa has a moment of clarity: they had planned this all along.
Relationships: Marcia | Marisa/Tethys/Xyst | Gerik
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14
Collections: Yes Fest 2020





	Interlaced

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acidicshortcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidicshortcake/gifts).



It's not so unusual of a night: they're celebrating an easy win against bandits, refreshments sponsored by grateful villagers in a bustling pub. Marisa can hold her drink well, but even so she’s had enough mead to dull her senses somewhat and offer a pleasant buzz. Not much for socialization, she watches the others in silence; it’s nice to see them have their fun.

The chief sits just across from her, tapping his foot to the jaunty tune played by a fiddler in the corner, and though he’s making small talk with his men, even Marisa can tell his mind is elsewhere. Across the room, in what little space miraculously isn’t filled with boisterous revelry, is Tethys, dancing as she only does when she’s feeling especially excited or she’s getting paid for it. Tonight it’s a free show, and despite the crowd she moves with finesse that even the goddess of music must envy.

Marisa hadn’t really known how to appreciate dancing before she’d met Tethys, much less been able to recognize the artistry behind it, but as she’s gotten to know Tethys she’s discovered, bit by bit, just how beautiful it can be. Her dances, Tethys has explained, are a prayer for health and victory and an expression of her deepest emotions all in one. To Marisa they seem just as much like a celebration of her body and all that it can do, and she can’t help but watch with a mixture of fascination and envy as Tethys bends in ways that she can barely comprehend.

A part of her wishes that she could capture Gerik’s attention so fully, but she knows that if she ever mentioned that he’d laugh and tell her that she moves just as fluidly on the battlefield, that her swordwork pays homage to death just the same as Tethys does to life. That doesn’t seem good enough, though. Not many people are willing to fall in love with death. She can’t blame him for watching, really: in truth, it’s hard for Marisa to tear her own eyes away.

Tethys ends with a final wave of her arms, a flourish of the hands, and though now it will be easier to get the chief’s attention—to talk about what, though? Marisa isn’t good at talking—there’s something disappointing about the spell being broken.

Soon enough Tethys joins them, bright-eyed and skin gleaming with sweat. Gerik welcomes her joyously, but it’s Marisa who she sits beside, squeezing herself between her and another mercenary on a bench that’s not made for so many people. Marisa feels her cheeks flush at the contact, even though this sort of thing isn’t unusual for Tethys.

Marisa is part of their conversation, technically, but it quickly becomes impossible to focus. The table is narrow, giving her a perfect view of Gerik’s face, handsome as ever. He returns her gaze in kind—in the same way he looks at Tethys, Marisa wants to believe. Tethys’ body is pressing against her own, and she only gets closer as the conversation goes on. It’s all very distracting, though Marisa can’t put to words why.

“Have you ever kissed another woman?” Tethys asks, like it’s a natural progression of their conversation. Marisa, who has never kissed anyone, is at a loss for words.

“Don’t tease her,” Gerik says, though he sounds amused.

“It’s an honest question,” says Tethys. “I have, and I know you’ve kissed plenty of men. I just want to make sure sweet Marisa isn’t left behind if she doesn’t want to be.”

At some point, Tethys has flung her arm around Marsia’s shoulder. Marisa had taken it as a gesture of friendship, but now she’s not so sure. “I haven’t,” she admits.

“Do you want to try?”

Up until this moment, she’s never thought about it. It’s always been easy to imagine _being_ with a woman, just as easily as with a man, but the idea has always been abstract, the vague thoughts of _maybe someday, if someone would ever have me_. It seems wrong, somehow, to indulge in any more specific fantasies than that, so she’s never let herself—not about Gerik, not about Tethys, not about anyone.

Now it’s impossible to _not_ think about kissing Tethys.

“I do want to try.”

Tethys smiles, sweet as honey, and turns to Gerik for a moment—winking?—before she presses her lips to Marisa’s. It’s warmer than Marisa had thought it might be, and wetter, but Tethys’ lips are so soft, so gentle, and they make something stir deep inside of her.

It’s a chase kiss, and Tethys pulls away too quickly. “Good?” she asks.

“Kiss me again,” says Marisa.

Tethys happily indulges her, kissing her longer, deeper. She pulls Marisa’s lower lip into her mouth, sucks on it gently, and Marisa sighs against her, allowing herself to be gently engulfed by Tethys’ warmth. It’s so much and yet not enough, and she feels clumsy as she does her best to return her passion in kind.

When they break again, she remembers all at once that they’re very much in public, and the Gerik is watching them. Foolishly, she tries to be subtle as she turns to him, hoping to read his expression, which turns out to look rather like the cat that just ate the canary.

In all of her obliviousness, Marisa has a moment of clarity: they had planned this all along.

The three of them make their way back to theor inn with an urgency that matches that of the battlefield. Giggling, Tethys’ waves at the innkeeper and tells him that they will _not_ need anyone to tidy up the room or wake them up for breakfast tomorrow, thank you. The room only has one bed, and Marisa wonders briefly just how odd they looked returning together.

Then Tethys is pulling Gerik’s shirt over his shoulders and leading him to the bed and it becomes impossible to think about anything else.

They make a perfect pair: Gerik’s body, tall and broad, carved and scarred by decades of battle is a beautiful contrast against Tethys’, slimmer and softer but with a unique strength, her own muscles visible under the skin. Her motions as she disrobes Gerik are nothing short of masterful, like a whole new kind of dance that Marisa aches to learn. They’re kissing, long and slow, Tethys straddling Gerik’s nude form and it’s impossible to tell where to look.

“Marisa,” says Gerik, his voice husky. “You’re invited, you know?

Everything seems so intensely intimate, and Marisa is in awe that she’s been welcomed to join in. She’s the same age as them, more or less, and yet so inexperienced; it feels like she’s being initiated into some forbidden pleasure. Her life has always been _train, battle, win_ , with nothing left for herself other than the satisfaction of a job well done.

But nothing about it feels _wrong_ as she takes one step and then another, unsure of where to go or what to do—is she supposed to be wearing clothes? She ends up taking her boots off with shaking fingers, then joins them on the bed, sitting cross-legged and wondering if they can somehow tell how wet she is.

Gerik cups her face in one hand, studying her features. It’s a familiar expression, that ‘I-can’t-tell-what-you’re-thinking’ look that she gets from just about everyone eventually. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

There’s no reason to lie, not to them. “Good,” she says, and he lets out a breath, as if in relief. “Nervous. I’ve never done… this.”

“Plenty of people haven’t. Most of the people we’ve seduced have said the same thing,” Tethys says, and Gerik nods. “You’ll do fine, gorgeous.”

Marisa’s face flushes at her words. “I mean at _all_.”

They look at each other, then back at her. A soft “ah!” is all Tethys can manage.

Marisa quickly continues. “Not that I don’t want to, I really do, but I’m not sure… can you show me?”

“Think we can manage that?” Gerik asks, brushing strands of hair out of Tethys’ face, tender even in a moment that feels so tense. She really _is_ the only nervous one, Marisa thinks.

Tethys presses a kiss to his jawline. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

The sight that follows she’ll burn into her memory forever. Tethys kicks off her pants so that Marisa might enjoy the picturesque view of her body. Gerik positions himself on top of her, and though his cock is rock-hard he seems content to leave it untouched for now. Instead, he cups one of Tethys’ full breasts and lowers his lips to the other. She throws her head back, softly moaning as he takes the nipple into his mouth.

Marisa has touched herself before, to little avail. It’s been pleasant but almost too intense, a type of pleasure unbefitting of a warrior, so she’s stopped herself before getting very far. Now she lets her hand sneak between her legs. For once, her short skirt is an advantage and she’s able to easily pull off her underthings and slip her fingers under the skirt to touch herself, to rub in time with each of Tethys’ gasps of pleasure. When Gerik goes lower, pressing kisses down Tethys’ body until he reaches her cunt, she mirrors the way he easily slips two fingers inside of her.

Tethys’ body curves in a beautiful arc as Gerik thrusts into her, and she moans his name when he wraps his lips around her clit. Their dance is mesmerizing as it is unfamiliar, and it’s over too soon: Tethys comes with a final cry of pleasure, a sound that Marisa wishes she could save to listen to, again and again, and then she looks exhausted and boneless and beautiful, laid out nude and fucked out among blankets and pillows.

She’s not reached her own climax yet, but Marisa pulls her fingers out of herself as Tethys comes down. Her cunt is almost aching with desire, but the pleasure she’s giving herself won’t be enough to fill the growing emptiness inside of her.

Lazily, Tethys gestures for Marisa to join them, and she obeys, still transfixed. Though she’s the only one of the trio who hasn’t disrobed, she feels naked as she lies down beside her.

“You’re beautiful,” Marisa whispers, afraid that talking will somehow break the spell she’s under, but she knows well that more often than not Tethys appreciates being told what she’s thinking., and she deserves to know the effect she’s had on her.

Gerik positions himself on Marisa’s other side and his thick member presses against her leg. She gulps at its touch, wondering how it might feel inside of her. “You’re beautiful, too,” he says, running his hands down her still-clothed body and sending a shiver up her spine. “Did you enjoy watching?”

“I thought you said not to tease her,” Tethys replies, still lazy from her orgasm. “She hasn’t run away yet, has she?” Her hand is exploring beneath Marisa’s skirt, tracing circles into her thighs.

“I don’t run away from anything,” Marisa mutters, and though she can’t see it she can imagine the grin on Tethys’ face as she finds her clit, rubs it in small, firm circles. A groan escapes her mouth and she grinds against Tethys’ hand, seeking an even greater pleasure.

“Of course you don’t, darling Marisa. And you want to do more than watch, don’t you?”

Marisa nods, unable to put together a coherent answer, and in response Tethys hooks one arm under her legs. Her skirt rides up easily as Tethys pulls them apart so Gerik can see her, fully exposed to him. It feels like she’s more wet than she’s ever been in her life, and now, open and ready like this with the chief so hard and so close to her, all she can think of is being filled.

Ever steady, Gerik takes a moment to lower his lips to hers, kissing her slow and deep. Marisa returns it, still clumsy, still inexperienced, but he doesn't seem to mind as her hands wander, tracing his nude body, admiring both his unmatched strength and gentleness. When he pulls away she almost begs for him to stay, but Tethys shushes her, whispers something like _good girl, you're so ready for us_. 

As Gerik finally fills her it's a pressure and a fullness even more intense than she could have imagined. She’d heard other women talk about their first time having sex with embarrassed giggles, all talk of putting up with pain and losing part of oneself. But either they were doing it wrong or she is, because though the stretch feels odd it doesn’t take more than a moment to adjust, and then it feels so _right_.

Tethys has readjusted herself somewhat, but her chest is still pressed against Marisa’s back, and she’s still able to pleasure her with skillful fingers. It’s perfectly choreographed: Gerik rocking into her, cock reaching places inside of Marisa she didn’t even know existed, while Tethys stimulates her clit. They must have practiced this many times over, and now Marisa is reaping the glorious benefits.

It feels like the three of them are melting together, like there’s no way to tell where one body ends and the next begins, no way to tell which gasp and moan belongs to who. Quickly, she is overwhelmed, but she trusts Gerik and Tethys here just as completely as she does in battle. Maybe more so; on the battlefield she has the benefit of training. She allows herself to be taken, to be _overtaken_ completely, to let her body sing with pleasure.

Marisa isn’t sure how long it takes her to come; time seems to exist no longer. But a warmth spreads from her cunt, full and eager, through her entire body, then there’s a release like nothing she’s ever felt before.

In her post-orgasm bliss, it’s impossible to think about anything at all. Gerik finishes at some point, spilling his seed across her stomach, and Tethys strokes her hair, whispers gentle praise into her ear. Incapable of speech, Marisa can at least offer a rare smile and welcoming arms when he allows himself to fall against her. Beyond that, it’s hard to keep track of any of the details, and she finds herself overwhelmed and drifting off to sleep in a tangle of bodies slick with sweat. It’s the dreamless sleep of comfort, of bliss, of absolute trust in her bedfellows.

She wakes still between them, safely in both their embraces. Weary but content, she closes her eyes, allows sleep to take her once again.


End file.
